


i'll be with you (through all the highs and lows)

by hyengold



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 2min hate arc because i am uncreative, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Don't try this at home kids, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lee Minho | Lee Know Is Bad at Feelings, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Sickfic, The author is bad at writing, Valentine's Day Fluff, although it could be unhygienic, i tried for witty banter i probably fell short, jisung is a disaster cook wbk, seungmin is a pining baby, this is literally just fluff yall take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29464560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyengold/pseuds/hyengold
Summary: “I’m sorry it had to be Valentine’s Day, of all days,” Minho says, not without sorrow.Jisung simply giggles, a sound that infinitely lifts Minho’s spirits. “I thought you said you didn’t like Valentine’s Day,” he jests. “Looks like the stone face king Lee Minho really is a sap after all.”“I will sneeze on you,” Minho grouses, all previous emotion gone.or: Minho falls sick on Valentine's Day and Jisung takes care of him.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, like just a tiny bit if u squint
Comments: 19
Kudos: 92
Collections: Drabbles Challenge for Chaotic Writers





	i'll be with you (through all the highs and lows)

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is very unoriginal get over it
> 
> this was very nearly 2min but my poor little minsung heart gave out so as compensation we get a nice civil 2min interaction (i promise some day or another i will publish a 2min fic-)
> 
> i gotta say something tho,, this fic was a monster to write. i was originally going to post something else, but i Kid You Not on the fated fourteenth my dumbass brain, whilst at a family gathering full of crying kids, decided it would be a good idea to write a story about character a falling sick on valentine's day and character b having to look after them and badabing badaboom 2 sleepless nights later, this baby was birthed (with much pain). 
> 
> and thus, this is where i have to give a special shoutout to [the incredible jenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigalle/pseuds/s-kiz) for saving my skin (in more than one sense of the word). i will be forever grateful for all the coding they helped me do for this fic and for spending their time de-bugging the code when ao3 refused to accept it like a fussy child. jenny, i have no idea how to thank you but by the power vested in me by skz you are hereby crowned not only the minchan ruler but also the coding ruler. i don't make the rules around here, it is what it is. i love you!!
> 
> in any case, this fic is part of a drabble challenge done by our dearest [skzwriters](https://twitter.com/skzwriters) and birthed to life by a bunch of amazing people who have dedicated and are dedicating so much effort into this fest <3 if yall read this, i love and appreciate yall so much muacks you guys are the best!!! the category i believe i applied for was a trope i've never done before, so here it is! my very first sickfic AND valentine's day fic!! even though it's one day late but who cares lmao yall are just here for the fluff admit it
> 
> anyways lmao dedications aside happy belated valentine's day (and lunar new year to those who celebrate) and i hope you enjoy the story!!

Minho has never been one to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

The occasion is cheesy and overrated. A good excuse for chocolate brands and florists and whatever is considered romantic nowadays to sell the hell out of their stock. To him, it isn’t different from any other day. It isn’t like the sky turns pink and suddenly there are cartoon hearts floating everywhere he goes. Perhaps the only tangible difference is that in every mall crooning love songs are played in the stead of the usual smooth jazz. Big deal.

Minho is not a huge romantic, but what he _certainly_ is, however, is a huge cheapskate. And while his boyfriend isn’t much of an outdoorsy person, he too would hate to skip on a quick deal too.

Which is why, whenever the fourteenth of February rolls around, Minho and Jisung abuse their couple rights like all hell. They spend the entire day running around the city, emptying their wallets for free chocolate and some jewellery if they’re feeling greedy, and snag the deal at their local cinema to watch the crappiest movie available, not to make out in a deserted theatre, but to laugh and/or wince at the terrible cinematography and plotlines, and ending it all by taking a pleasant sunset stroll in the park and betting on whether other upset couples will break up or not. The perfect romantic date.

The only problem is, as the days count down to that fateful event, Minho hasn’t exactly been feeling the most… _spectacular_. Far from it, in fact. An abnormally aching body, a scratchy throat, a running nose… Minho can feel it gathering like an ominous storm on the horizon. All the signs are there, screaming obnoxious neon in his face: he’s falling sick. 

Before going to bed at night on the thirteenth, he begs whatever god’s out there to spare him until tomorrow, so he can at least spend one day with his boyfriend before letting his health go to shit. Despite claiming to not be a fan of Valentine’s Day, Minho has to admit it is a splendid excuse to go out and spend an entire day with one stunning Han Jisung, and he wouldn’t give up that opportunity for the world. Unless, of course, the world means feeling like throwing up after just ten steps out of bed. That’s stretching it.

Which is exactly why, as Minho’s eyes slowly flutter open to the chimes of his alarm, he curses whichever deity he prayed to the night before, and asserts decisively that thirteen _must_ be his unlucky number. Because his limbs feel like red hot pokers, his throat has knives slicing through it, and his entire body feels like it’s inside a bonfire. 

Minho is honest-to-goodness _sick_.

Dejectedly he stares up at his ceiling as his alarm blares on, not bothering to move and turn it off despite it piercing and damaging his eardrums beyond repair. Today was supposed to be a good day, he mourns. It was supposed to be a happy day.

Instead, he gets to spend the next twenty-four hours on bed arrest, curled up in his blankets and his misery, and wishing he could hire a hitman to take himself out. And to wrap it up, worst of all, he can’t even see his boyfriend.

At long last, Minho gets enough strength to tumble out of bed and waddle to the bathroom a bundle of duvet. He brushes his teeth whilst looking back at his own bleary expression, and thinks to himself: _I should start sneezing on straight couples to ruin their dates._

Then he actually sneezes, and ends up with a large splatter of toothpaste on his bathroom mirror that he’s too fatigued to clean up.

Upon return to his bed for round two of melancholic moping, his phone chimes with several texts. Minho involuntarily lets out a groan that sears through his throat. He forgot he actually has social obligations to fulfil. Such as informing his very enthusiastic and very eager boyfriend that he has to cancel their plans for today. How very exciting.

With a huge sigh Minho scoops up his phone, pausing to admire his adorable lock screen before unlocking the device. It’s a picture of Jisung taking a selfie right as Minho is waking up from a nap on Jisung’s shoulder on the bus, squinting at the camera with a highly disgruntled expression. That had been in the early days of their relationship, and looking back, Minho really doesn’t have any regrets with how far they’ve come.

A text notification drops down onto his screen, and Minho begrudgingly taps it to open the application.

**_Little squirrel~_ ** **🐿**

hyungie!!! _  
_ good morninggg :3  
are you ready for today? >:3  
_ 9:38 am _

im all ready look!!!  
  
_ 10:11 am _

i wore my favourite hoodie for todayyy _  
_ it’s lino’s~~~  
_ 10:12 am _

Lino?  
_ 10.30 am _

Hyung? _  
_ are you there? _  
_ is this a prank TT  
_ 10.31am _

hyung reply pls ur scaring me……. TT  
_ 10.36 am _

Minho’s teeth worry at his lip as he quickly types out a response, guilt welling inside of him for allowing Jisung to get this distressed.

i haven’t been kidnapped by ninjas yet jisungie don’t worry  
i don’t think we can go out today though  
i’m sorry 😔  
_ 10.38 am _

oh no D:  
what happened?  
_ 10.39 am _

i’m feeling a little under the weather  
i’ll make it up to you next weekend? how does that sound  
we can buy leftover chocolates and go ice skating instead ㅋㅋㅋㅋ  
_ 10.39 am _

you’re sick? _  
_ it must be bad TT  
_ 10.40 am _

it’s not anything severe, i just need one day of bedrest then i can go back to bothering you 😁 _  
_ cherish the time you have right now, han jisung.  
_ 10.40 am _

hyung you’re a menace T.T  
_ 10.41 am _

A breathy chuckle slips out of Minho’s lips, thankfully not enough to disturb his sore throat.

what will you be doing in the meantime? now that your schedule is miraculously cleared  
maybe you can finish up that anime you’ve always wanted to watch  
_ 10.41 am _

Maybeeee  
but it’s not the same without you hyung _  
_ OH I KNOW  
_ 10.41 am _

…...jisungie?  
what are you up to _  
_ please don’t burn anything down  
i don’t have the money to pay for reparations  
_ 10.45 am _

HYUNG I’M NOT THAT BAD TT  
just don’t move okay  
_ 10.47 am _

Okay…..?  
_ 10.48 am _

Minho already has an inkling of what his mischievous boyfriend might have in mind. He wraps himself up tighter in his cocoon of fabric, shuts his eyes, and tries not to think about how much he can’t breathe.

Sure enough, there’s a cheery tinkling of keys in the distance, and a telltale _clack_ of the lock. Quiet footsteps tap into Minho’s place, a sign of gingerness and uncharacteristic care. A voice drifts in from outside Minho’s room.

“Hyung?” the angel himself calls out, followed by a soft _thump_ , probably him dumping his parka onto the sofa like a sloppy child. Minho opts to save his throat the trouble and keep quiet, figuring that there’s only so much apartment Jisung can search before coming upon his disease-ridden corpse of a body.

Minho’s bedroom door squeaks open, and a socked foot peeks in, followed by blue skinny jeans, Minho’s grey hoodie, and finally… the man of the day, in the flesh. Minho silently mourns the waste of his boyfriend’s adorable outfit. He is, for lack of better words, _devastatingly_ cute. There’s always next time, he supposes.

It only takes one look at Minho’s miserable blob of a form on the floor for Jisung to gasp and dash over. Minho tries not to communicate through his expressions just how relieved he feels already from just the sight of Jisung. He really is Minho’s happiness pill, not like Minho would ever admit it aloud to anyone.

“Lino-hyung!” Jisung exclaims, hands fretting all over, tugging at Minho’s blanket burrito, prodding at his arms, touching his forehead. “What the fuck- you’re burning up! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine” is what Minho tries to reply, but it takes the first syllable to exit his mouth for Minho to realise that his voice is more dry and gravelly than sand. He dutifully shuts his mouth.

Jisung winces at Minho’s attempt at speech. “Yeah… you’re not okay.”

Since the power of verbal articulation has been so rudely taken from Minho, he has to resort to an angry glare and firm shake of his head. A wonderful display of assertiveness. And of course, Jisung, the stubborn bastard, takes approximately none of it to heart.

The first thing Minho’s endearingly dumb boyfriend does is to try and return Minho back to the bed. And how else does he try to do it but by quite literally princess-carrying Minho with his weak snappable stick arms? Minho, a considerable mass of muscle and hotness? (Taken in both the visual and literal sense.)

It’s a struggle, but eventually Minho gets Jisung to put his thighs down so he can clamber back onto his bed himself. With a satisfied huff he buries back into his pillow, relishing in its material coolness before it all gets heated up by his internal furnace. Meanwhile, his first task accomplished, Jisung proceeds to fuss over Minho, laying out the blanket nicely (even though Minho would mess it up again anyway), fluffing up Minho’s pillows (and nearly smacking Minho’s face in the process) and making sure Minho has enough fluids (he hasn’t).

After being practically forced to drink a whole bucket of water, Minho discovers he has somehow regained the ability to speak. “You-” he clears his throat, hating the feeble sound with all his enormous heart. “You really don’t have to do this. I can take care of myself.”

And Jisung, wonderful, cherubic Jisung, scoffs while he refills Minho’s glass, looks over Minho once, and says, “No offence, hyung, but you couldn’t lift a spoon even if you tried.”

“Can too!” Minho chooses to argue, because he has a _pride_ to defend, goddamnit.

Jisung obstinately shoves the water glass in Minho’s face, clearly unrelenting. “Hold this for ten seconds then.”

And of course, Minho, being a stubborn bastard himself, takes up the challenge. He wraps his weak, near quaking fingers around the glass, and as soon as Jisung lets go, Minho knows he’s gotten himself into trouble.

He nearly doesn’t have time to croak out “Jisung” in a panic before a slender hand has taken the cup away from him and safely back to the table. Minho relaxes back onto his bed in relief, then glares up insolently at Jisung when it hits him that Jisung just proved him wrong. “You’ll pay for that.”

Jisung just blows him a kiss and strolls back out the door. Minho is too prideful to admit to himself that the gesture did make his erratically beating heart do a loop-de-loop.

When Jisung next waltzes through the door, in his hand crinkles a small silver packet. He waves the item around, letting it flop from side to side with a crackling sound. “Hyung, look what I found in your kitchen!” he says cheerily, with enough light to become a second sun.

“That’s always been there, Sungie,” Minho mutters. “I _gave_ it to you before.”

Jisung ignores his jab, opting instead to pop out two of the medicinal pills and help Minho into a sitting position against the headboard. He proceeds to hold the pills to Minho’s mouth, saying a prodding “ahhh” like he’s a parent prompting their kid to open up and eat the food. Without much choice left, Minho obeys and lets the two pills be placed on his tongue.

A quick gulp of water left, and Jisung has once more spun out the room a whirlwind of sunshine and flowers. Or perhaps that’s Minho’s sickness-stricken vision finally kicking in.

Soon enough, a laptop finds itself plopped onto the farther edge of Minho’s bed, and Minho finds another warm body has slithered beneath the covers beside him. He gratefully accepts the free comfort, burying his head into the softness of Jisung’s stomach as his boyfriend types on the laptop, and by association the cushy material of his hoodie. 

Jisung chuckles and lets one hand fall to Minho’s tired head, stroking and scratching his head gently with blunt nails. If Minho could purr, he would be vibrating right off the bed. “You’re feeling cuddly today, hm?” Jisung hums.

Minho barely hears him through his euphoric haze of just _being with_ Jisung. “Shut up,” he gets out, and tugs himself further deeper into Jisung’s warm embrace. This is the perfect utopia. Minho could die like this.

Unfortunately, Minho does not have the option of death, because from the device he hears the tinny jingle of a familiar streaming site, and Jisung sits back again, meaning Minho’s natural shade from the killer sunlight has now disappeared. Thankfully, Jisung’s hand stays on Minho’s head, which means free pats as Minho slowly blinks at the opening sequence of the anime Jisung has just started playing. “Oh yeah,” he murmurs, half delirious already. “This is… this is the one you were talking about.” A pause. “I like the one with the blue shirt.”

Jisung’s laugh rumbles all the way to Minho’s ear, a wonderful massage. “Funny; that’s the one I got on those ‘which character are you’ quizzes.”

“Damn right,” Minho grunts. “I think I still prefer him though. At least he can cook.”

“Hey!” Jisung’s hand is instantly removed from Minho’s hair, causing the older to groan in objection. “No more pats for you,” Jisung says mock-sternly.

Minho wildly flails his arm upwards, searching desperately for Jisung’s hand. “No, no no!” He turns over to let Jisung see his pitiful, sickly expression. “I’m a sick man in need of comfort, please. Have some compassion.”

Jisung tuts at this statement. “Not until you admit that I’m a good cook.”

Minho frowns. He and Jisung might not agree on a lot of things, but one thing they can definitely see eye to eye on is the fact that that is a lie. “Fine! You’re a good cook,” he says anyways, heaving an exasperated sigh. Better to make his boyfriend happy with an obvious lie than instigate him more and deprive himself of more pats.

Satisfied, Jisung’s hand returns to its initial spot, and happiness flows through Minho once more. “I’m a better one though,” Minho makes sure to mutter. If Jisung heard any of his little addition, he shows no sign of it.

They watch the episode in companionable silence, but Minho’s woozy mind is focused on anything but. “You really didn’t have to come today,” he pipes up halfway into the show.

In reply, Jisung lightly taps a rebuke against Minho’s skull. “Stupid,” Jisung says. “I wanted to come today. Now shut up and let the sleepy meds do their thing.”

Indeed, Minho has started to feel a pressure on his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, like an anchor is slowly dragging it shut. He perseveres on, wanting to at least make it to the end of the episode so he can hear Jisung’s subsequent rant about it, but soon, the darkness becomes too insistent, and Minho’s weak mind is dragged under the surface. 

* * *

When Minho next comes to, he’s met with an awful sight.

A displeased scowl instantly overtakes his face as his eyes settle on the intruder that has so disrespectfully decided to take up residence in his room. An absolute pest. Ignoring the palpable dryness in his throat, Minho manages to mutter, “What are you doing here?”

Kim Seungmin looks up from his phone with a bored expression, one leg tossed casually over the other as he rests back on one of Minho’s dining chairs, situated right in his bedroom. On top of that, he has the _audacity_ to reply, “I’m babysitting.”

Minho blinks twice, then murmurs, “I could have sworn you were Jisung…”

Seungmin, being the wonderful hoobae that he is, subtly rolls his eyes and says, “God, hyung, you’re so loopy on meds. Jisung called me a while ago to keep an eye on you while he goes out shopping for groceries. Said he wanted to make you a soup or something.”

Minho’s eyes widen, for several reasons. Firstly, that Jisung had called _Seungmin_ , whom Minho had once declared was going to slice his throat in the middle of the night. Secondly, that Jisung wanted to make soup, and thirdly, that Jisung wanted to _make soup._

“He’s going to burn the kitchen down!” Minho struggles to get out of bed, but Seungmin is quicker, using his gangly limbs to confine Minho once more. His bed is starting to feel less like a refuge and more like a prison.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he says sternly, like a mother scolding her child. “I’m on strict orders to keep you in bed. And don’t worry. Jisung summoned the calvary to help him out. Felix and Chan will stop him from doing anything he’ll regret.” Minho doesn’t miss the way Seungmin utters “hopefully” as a side comment.

“Felix and Chan?” Minho echoes incredulously. “On _Valentine’s Day_? They actually take it seriously though, we shouldn’t be bothering them!”

“Hyung! Hyung, they actually didn’t have plans,” Seungmin soothes, which is an unnatural thing for him to do, but his smooth vocalist voice does wonders for Minho’s restless soul. “They needed to babysit Chan’s nephew for the day, and they needed an excuse to go out. It’s fine.”

Minho burrows back in his blankets grumpily. “I can’t believe Jisung kicked up all that fuss for this,” he huffs. 

“Jisung will be Jisung,” Seungmin says in lieu of agreement, “and Jisung will be dramatic. I’m not the one that chose to date him.”

Minho instinctively bristles at this, feeling the urge to defend his boyfriend’s honour. “Hey, who was the one who agreed to come here at his request again?”

Seungmin raises his hands in a silent concession. After a brief moment of silence, he pipes up again. “So, I heard you had a whole day planned, only to end up” he gestures to Minho’s general body lump on his bed, “in this sad state.”

“On Valentine’s Day, no less,” Minho concurs. "And it seems you didn’t have the guts to ask any of your crushes out again if you're here too, hm?”

This makes a fierce crimson spread across Seungmin’s face, just as Minho expected. “Hyunjin and Jeongin are dating,” he says in protest, eyes flickering to avoid Minho’s. “I shouldn’t cut into their relationship like that.”

“And yet here you are, blushing like a schoolgirl when I haven’t even mentioned their names,” Minho deadpans, and Seungmin blushes even harder. “Come on, seriously. You don’t know how those two look at you, it’s like you hold the stars in your eyes or some disgusting stuff-”

“You mean exactly how you look at Jisung?” Seungmin ripostes without missing a beat.

Minho grunts. Seungmin has a point. Some way or another, his own affection for Jisung would be bound to spill out in some form or fashion. “Touche.”

“Hyunjin’s birthday is coming up soon,” Seungmin begins, voice much more sombre now. And Minho respectfully falls quiet, allowing Seungmin the space to spill his thoughts. “I was thinking of treating the two of them to a nice picnic and hopefully…” his voice quietens drastically, such that Minho has to strain his ill-stricken ears to hear his next words, “confess to them.”

Internally, Minho breathes a sigh of relief. Seungmin has been pining for those two for as long as Minho has known the trio, with obvious signs ranging from random slaps on Jeongin’s butt to allowing Hyunjin to rest on his shoulder for an especially long time. Outwardly, however, he just snorts. “About time. At least I had the guts to confess to Jisung.”

Seungmin blinks once, and Minho knows he’s fucked up. “I’m pretty sure that confession came in a drunken rant during a game of truth and dare? And that you immediately told us to never speak of it again?”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Minho flops a boneless hand for effect. “What’s past is past. Point is, I got game, and last I recall, you got…” He pauses for a moment to fake a pondering motion. “Absolutely none.”

“Fine, fine, I get your point,” Seungmin grumbles.

Minho raises an eyebrow. “So what are you definitely going to do on the twenty-first of March?”

Like an obedient kindergartener, Seungmin mutters, “Confess to Hyunjin and Jeongin.”

Minho gives an approving nod, like a proud mentor guiding in the intricacies of romance. “Good.”

“And hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“Hyunjin’s birthday is on the twentieth.”

* * *

The soup Jisung makes doesn’t taste like sewer water, which is certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Felix helped with a lot of the stuff,” Jisung explains as he scoops one more spoonful, egged on Minho’s little noise of delight. Equally pleasant, but less of a surprise. The bed beneath Minho’s feeble body bends back and forth, shifting under the weight of Jisung as he hand feeds Minho. “A lot of shit actually _goes_ into making this, I had no clue you had to do so much.”

Minho wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, inciting a noise of disgust from Jisung who instantly dabs at it with a tissue. Despite his loud and clumsy demeanour, Jisung can be surprisingly meticulous.

“I can feed myself,” Minho says, in a weak defence of his dignity. “I mean, I’m happy you care about me, but I’m not completely helpless-”

“Shhh.” A finger comes to rest at Minho’s lips, effectively stunning him into shutting up. “Let me do this,” Jisung says insistently. “I know you have your dumb tsundere facade to put up, but…” 

He takes a deep breath, looking towards the ground. “Even if you don’t say so, you do so many kind things for people, and especially for me. But a relationship is supposed to go two ways, right? It’s not just you who has to take care of me in this; I should be able to take care of you too. And it’s not because of some stupid morality or chivalry thing, hyung, I do it because I want to, and you deserve it.”

Jisung is right. He’s always right. Minho knows there is wisdom hidden inside this free-spirited, effervescent soul, a simple, philosophical wisdom, and yet it always seems to catch him off guard. And Minho sincerely hopes it will continue to catch him off guard so, whenever they spend intimate moments together such as this.

Even so, Minho can still feel the heavy weight of his heart. “I’m sorry it had to be Valentine’s Day, of all days,” he says, not without sorrow.

Jisung simply giggles, a sound that infinitely lifts Minho’s spirits. “I thought you said you didn’t like Valentine’s Day,” he jests. “Looks like the stone face king Lee Minho really is a sap after all.”

“I will sneeze on you,” Minho grouses, all previous emotion gone.

A teasing grin sneaks onto Jisung’s face. “Like what you did to your bathroom mirror?”

“ _Oh no_ ,” Minho sucks in a deep breath, a smirk playing on his lips. “ _I can feel it coming right now-”_

Jisung squeals and leaps up as Minho faux-sneezes into the air. “Hyung!” he yelps. “You almost made me spill my soup!”

“Oh really?” Minho raises an eyebrow nonchalantly. “Better feed it to me before I make you spill it for real, then.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, but obediently returns to Minho’s side, spoon at the ready.

With each sip Minho can feel more of his strength refill his limbs, allowing him to finally be able to sit up straighter without needing a full-on brace to prop him up. Felix really must have done something magic with the soup, the bastard. No other reason could possibly explain why the liquid makes Minho feel as rejuvenated as he does.

“Feeling better?” Jisung’s face lowers into the frame of Minho’s sight, hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hand behind his ear. The tenderness of his touch only makes Minho’s heart race even faster.

Minho hums softly, unable to stop a content smile from slipping onto his face. “Considerably.”

He’s never seen this side of Jisung before. To say the least, Jisung does not have a nursing instinct. Plants wither under his care, and don’t even get Minho started on _fish_ . Witnessing Jisung bustling around, taking care of and worrying after Minho in his sickness on _Valentine’s Day_ no less, may have touched something in Minho’s icy heart. While his flesh prison might still be a sickly lump of despondency, Minho’s soul is veritably singing on the inside, nourished and nurtured by the love and care Jisung has provided for him throughout the day. Although calling in Seungmin could have been averted. Minho’ll let that one go.

The spoon prods at Minho’s mouth and Minho dutifully opens up. The soup in itself isn’t really special, it’s just some average chicken soup that was probably cooked from broth stock, but to Minho it’s the best goddamn concoction he’s ever tasted. Maybe because of the hand that’s feeding it to him. Perhaps Minho should fall sick more often, if this is the treatment he’s going to receive.

Jisung exhales gently. “How’d you even end up this sick, hyung? Usually you’re as fit as a fiddle.”

Minho’s throat rasps as he clears it, before nudging Jisung for another spoon of soup. “I have no clue,” he replies after swallowing. “I mean… I _had_ been feeling kind of unwell lately, but I didn’t expect it to erupt in my face like this.”

At those words Jisung makes a noise of disapproval. “Hyung, you have to take care of yourself more! Who else is going to give me free ice cream on weekends?”

Minho summons as much strength as he can to smack Jisung’s thigh, which isn’t much. “Yah! Am I just some walking piggy bank to you, Han Jisung?”

Jisung bubbles with laughter as he scoops up the last of the soup. As soon as Minho swallows the last bit, he quips, “Maybe you are.”

With a playful growl Minho leaps up to mock-strangle Jisung, but he convulses in a fit of coughs and his hands fall limp onto the blanket. Jisung instantly tends to him, supporting Minho and rubbing his back as his lungs attempt to wrench themselves out of his ribcage. “God,” he gasps as soon as he can catch his breath. “I hate this.”

“Look at you, old man,” Jisung teases, and immediately flinches at Minho’s retaliatory smack. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, hyung! I love you!”

What Jisung doesn’t hear is the skip in Minho’s breath when those words leave Jisung’s mouth. No matter how many times the younger may say it, those three words will never fail to steal Minho’s breath away and instead fill his lungs with affection. 

Jisung pouts at Minho’s nonresponse, reverting back to his typical childlike ways. “I just said I love you, hyung! Say it back!”

“I only say things I mean, Jisungie,” Minho retorts, reluctant to give in to the strong tugging at his heartstrings. 

“Whatever you say, hyung,” Jisung says, beaming sweetly, and in that moment, all the breath is squeezed out of Minho as it strikes him once more just how lucky he is to have Han Jisung in his life. Sweet, bubbly, kind, cheerful, considerate, passionate, loving, adorable, perfect Han Jisung. Someone who’d tank all of Minho’s unintentionally mean comments. Someone who’d laugh with Minho at the stupidest things. Someone who’d cradle Minho during his darkest days. Affection throbs something fierce in Minho’s veins, overtaking his system and flooding his vision until all he can see is cartoon hearts around Jisung’s face as he clears up Minho’s bowl while humming a pop song like a little kid like some sort of Instagram filter. An apt one, Minho decides, because he would give up the goddamn world for this boy, no questions asked. He’d kill to keep Jisung by his side, and go to the ends of the world if that’s what Jisung asks of him (not without complaint, of course).

He is truly, and utterly, smitten by this boy.

And with all of this unsaid affection welling up inside him, Minho harnesses it all and channels it into his next words, “Hey, loser.”

Wordlessly, Jisung looks up, a question in his eyes.

Minho beckons him over. “C’mere.”

Innocently, Jisung draws closer to Minho, unfaltering in his efforts to give Minho as much love and care as he needs, and even more. “What is it, hyung?”

Summoning his courage, Minho juts his lips out in a pout. “It hurts,” he whines, putting on his best kid impression. “Kiss it better?”

Jisung chuckles fondly, making Minho’s stomach do several impressive flips. “Where, Minho-ya?” he asks cutely, playing along and making Minho even more gone for him with every adorable bat of his eyelashes.

Still pouting, Minho points up to his lips. Jisung’s eyes widen in silent realisation as Minho’s little ploy dawns on him. Minho keeps the pout, even though a sliver of his dignity shrivels with every passing second. Anything was worth making Jisung happy. “Over here, you say?” Jisung confirms one more time, pointing to the right corner of Minho’s lips, evidently teasing. His finger draws over to the left corner. “Or over here?” His fingers shift to the centre. “Or is it here-”

Minho snaps. He surges upward, bringing his hands up to cup Jisung’s face as he drags the younger down into a kiss, letting his eyes slide close as he savours the sensation of Jisung’s lips on his. Jisung responds with equal energy, meeting Minho’s every eager motion with his own enthusiastic movements, matching move for move in a flawless medley of two souls in love. And in this moment, Minho truly allows himself to sink in the sheer depth of the love he has for Jisung. The man he is kissing right now. The only one that can make his heart flutter like a first crush. The kindness that never fails to touch his heart, the joy he would move mountains to protect. 

The person he is currently losing his breath to-

The two break off panting hard, Minho through wheezy grunts. Jisung wrinkles his nose at the sound. “Ew. Probably shouldn’t have done that. You might be contagious.”

“You enjoyed it,” Minho grumbles back.

Jisung reaches over to give Minho’s ass a smack through the blankets in a reverse of their usual dynamic. Of course, Minho exclaims in protest, but lets it slide. “Damn right I did.” Jisung leans over Minho, smug smile on his lips. “And when I fall sick, it’ll be your turn to take care of me.”

With no words left to retort with, Minho chooses to retaliate with a sneak kiss attack on Jisung’s lips, making sure to drag his teeth against his bottom lip for extra effect. “I love you too,” he breathes into the tiny gap between them.

Jisung flushes a beautiful ruby red at this, stammering and nearly tripping over his own feet as he attempts to retreat out of the room. “Bowl- wash- I mean, kitchen- wash soup,” he stutters, before darting out of the room as quickly as possible, leaving Minho behind with a sated smile on his lips, not unlike a cat’s.

Maybe there _is_ some true meaning to Valentine’s Day after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> haha can u tell im unsatisfied with the ending,, im unsatisfied with the ending. also just for clarification i don't watch anime i have no clue whether a blue shirt is a defining trait or not just roll with it pls
> 
> this baby went through so many roller coasters honestly hskjdfhskdjfh i did not . manage to fit as much minsung fluff as i would have liked to. somehow i like to think?? that im good at fluff then i take a look at my writing and its all like rock hard stone tbh :/
> 
> but anyways !! please take care everyone, unlike minho in this fic if you fall sick right about now it could very much be c-word hours 🤪 remember to mask up, sanitise and hydrate yourselves <33
> 
> i'm not sure what else to put ?? so i'll just end here lmao it's like 1am my mind is bluescreening asf and i have school tomorrow ok FUN TIMES BYEE
> 
> [i have a twitter too!!](https://twitter.com/straycelestials)


End file.
